


Cas' Pet Peeve

by Terran Dowling (Enby_Entity)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: "Angel" - Freeform, Bar, Cas appreciation, Cute Sastiel moment, Day six SPNADVENTCHALLENGE2019, Dean being...well...Dean...but also not being Dean, Emotions are such a pain, I Tried, M/M, Nearly skipped this one cos I couldn't think of anything creative to do for it, Since one of my two main characters is a literal angel, Still, This short features a fuming Cas and Sam calming him down, costume contest, like??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enby_Entity/pseuds/Terran%20Dowling
Summary: What started off as some innocent holiday fun at a bar, turned quickly into a very anger-triggering moment for Castiel as a costume contest theme is revealed to be "Angels". Every contestant, including (oddly) Dean Winchester, went right for the usual stigmas/stereotypes that surrounds Cas' kind in the media. Cas nearly loses his shit, until Sam steps in, and takes him elsewhere to calm him down once again.
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 26





	Cas' Pet Peeve

Cas was _fuming_. Oh, he should’ve known something was up when Dean brought with him a dark, plastic bag filled with something he refused to talk about. Ooh, he should’ve known when Dean purposely hid the bag under the table and warned Cas specifically not to look into it. Sam was clueless as well but had shrugged it off. Cas, wanting to enjoy the Christmas festivities of the bar they were visiting, put it to the back of his mind and focused on drinking enough that was acceptable to the other humans around them but not so much it tipped them off to something…other. He could drink an entire liquor store and only be mildly inebriated but they must never know that.

At first, things were alright. They were great, actually. The music was new takes on old, stale classics, there was dancing (Dean made him and Sam dance either though neither one of them wanted to do so in public because they both believed themselves to be horrible at it; it ended up feeling amazing to be in Sam’s arms and knew Sam had felt the same holding him), there were eating contests, and then...there came the Costume Contest.

Underway at the moment.

At the first announcement, Dean had perked up and reached for his bag, cluing Sam and Cas in to his intentions. He sent them a grin, said “I’ll be back” (doing his best to mimic Schwarzenegger’s accent) and disappeared into a nearby bathroom to change. Sam and Cas exchanged looks, shrugged, and waited. When it was announced that this year’s theme for the contest was _angels_ , Cas’ heart just about stopped with bone-chilling dread.

He _hated_ what humans thought Angels were like; he hated all the stigmas and stereotypes. And this contest hit every single one. Dean was probably the worst of them all, if only because he already knew first-hand that angels were nothing like what was depicted in media, but he emerged from that bathroom in a getup that made Cas nearly see red.

Where to start?

There was glitter, everywhere, which was doubly weird for Dean, Mr. Toxic-Masculinity. Then there were the wings, made with _real feathers_. His own, if Cas wasn’t mistaken. Right now, that’s what he was stuck on.

“Dean, where the hell did you get my feathers??”

Part of his mind worried Dean had plucked them from him during one of the nights where he did the angel equivalent of sleeping.

Turns out, that wasn’t the case, and Dean was staring at him with a frown.

“You molt like hell during the summer, Cas. Relax, would you?” There was no time to unpack that as right at that moment, his name was called (they were introducing the “angels”), and with a hoot he practically danced his way to the front.

Cas found his hands turning into fists as he took in every single halo and every single harp on every single contestant. Some had even gone to putting blush on their cheeks to create a cherub kind of look.

“Cas.” Sam’s voice cut through the roar, as only Sam’s voice could. “Cas, hon, I know angels don’t breathe but you’re turning bright red, please breathe.”

“They just _had_ to do angels,” Cas snarled. “Look at this shit! Halos? Harps? We are not cute, little cherubs, _we are soldiers of God._ We are fighters! We are tough! This is a fucking— Sam, what are you doing?” Sam had grabbed him by the arm and had successfully gotten him outside (the sudden cold air had alerted him) during his rant.

“I’m getting you out of the place that’s triggering you.”

Cas wanted to deny it but his vision was still reddish in tint, and there was this very uncomfortable constricting in his chest. Ugh. Emotions. Luckily, he was dating someone who had gone his whole life dealing with them.

“Come on,” Sam offered his hand. “I want to take you some place.”

Cas looked at the hand for a moment, then up into Sam’s eyes, knew that anywhere else was better than here, especially with Sam, and put his hand into Sam’s, trusting the human completely.

Sam took him home.

“What?” Cas asked him, staring up at the bunker’s walls first then at him. “Sam…”

“Trust me, Cas. What you need is inside.”

Cas followed, albeit reluctantly, as Sam headed in. Once there, Sam led him to the den, started the heater, and requested Cas to sit on the couch with him. Cas did so without question, automatically snuggling against him and unable to stop himself from closing his eyes. Most of his aggravation with Dean and the others at that bar was gone.

“I want to tell you a story,” Sam said.

“I’d love to listen,” Cas replied.

And so, Sam told him about all the ways that he had helped the brothers since coming into their lives. From helping them on cases, to saving their lives, to little things like helping to clean up after meals; he made sure they were fed, watered, bathed, and clothed at all times. He was like a guard dog most nights, allowing them to sleep soundly for a good six hours. He was their best friend, someone they could fall back on for support. He was something they could share everything with. For Sam, especially, Cas combated any loneliness he used to feel when it was just him and Dean. Cas made him happy. Cas made him feel loved and appreciated, especially during the times when Dean failed to do so.

At the end of the story, Cas was beyond touched, and the constriction in his chest had disappeared. He looked upon Sam with a deep, newfound love for he understood what Sam had done.

“You gave me validation.”

Sam nodded, flicked his gaze to Cas’ lips then back up to Cas’ gaze, and leaned in. The intent was clear. Cas didn’t wait, taking the lead and locking his lips with Sam’s.

They made love, right there in that den. (Eventually they moved to their room.)

When a very annoyed Dean came home that night, he found them in their bed, entangled in each other, covers pulled up to their waist, fast asleep. He left the room grumbling on about how he’d won first place and they hadn’t even been there to see it, what was the point of doing that if they hadn’t even been there, though the trophy _was nice_ to look at, where would be the best place to put it…on and on.

“He never shuts up when he wins something,” Cas mumbled.

Sam let out a laugh and kissed Cas with enough passion to replace the sun.

“Since he’s going to be going on for a while longer, what say you and I try for round two?”

Cas was ready in seconds.


End file.
